


#181914

by grandsequel (Yunho)



Category: K-pop, MBLAQ
Genre: M/M, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunho/pseuds/grandsequel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon is many things, but real isn't one of them. And in the grand scheme of things, being real is the only thing that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#181914

It’s the little things that set Changsun apart from the others. Little things like the way he always uses his left hand to clean the equipment and moves it counterclockwise as he wipes and polishes and shines, even though he’s right handed. It’s little things like the way his voice goes low when ordering take out over the phone and goes high pitched when he’s trying to speak politely. It’s the way his smile transforms his exhausted, frustrated face when he catches a glimpse of Jihoon in the morning, and his face falls back into the default apathy every night, just before he has to leave.  
  
It’s the little things. Jihoon notices all these things.   
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
Jihoon was created on a Wednesday. He doesn’t know this at first. He finds out because Changsun one afternoon tells him so.   
  
“Jihoon-ah,” Changsun whispers softly, his voice caressing his name reverently, “Do you know what today is?”  
  
“Wednesday,” Jihoon answers monotonously. He sees Changsun smile but it looks a bit stiff at the edges, somewhat subdued. “No silly. It’s your three week birthday.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Does that mean anything to you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What does it mean?”  
  
Jihoon is silent for several seconds. He knows what it means to him. “I am three weeks created.”  
  
“You were created three weeks ago.”  
  
“Yes.” Jihoon doesn’t understand the necessity of repeating what he’d said, but he nods and agrees anyway. The look on Changsun's face doesn’t clear though.  
  
“You were created three weeks ago…”  
  
“Yes,” Jihoon says again. He hesitates a moment and then says, “I was created three weeks ago for you.”  
  
“For me?”  
  
Jihoon takes nearly half a minute to calculate the appropriate emotional response, and finally settles on uncertainty when he replies, “By you…?”  
  
Changsun sets down the remote in his hand that he’d been fiddling with, setting it on the table, and reaches out slowly to brush his finger down the crooked edge of Jihoon’s nose. They simply stand there for several long minutes, Changsun tracing idle figures across Jihoon’s face until finally Changsun says, “For me, by me—I suppose it’s really all the same thing, right?”  
  
Jihoon remains silent, trying to think of another appropriate response. He takes too long however, and Changsun is long gone by the time Jihoon wants to tell him the difference lies in the emotional significance of the former over the latter. When Changsun comes into Jihoon’s room that night to shut him down, his face is more haunted than Jihoon has ever seen it.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
Jihoon is excellent at keeping secrets.  
  
For instance, Dr. Jung Byunghee was in the supply room on September 23rd at 8:14pm engaged in coitus with one of the technicians. They were there for a total of 32 minutes. Jihoon never tells Changsun though. Neither does he tell Dr. Jung he saw him but that’s because Jihoon overheard Seungho tell Changsun one night that Dr. Jung had recently lost his wife and was emotionally unstable (though not in those words). Jihoon does not know why Dr. Jung doesn’t simply look for his lost wife but from the way Changsun’s face had fallen, crushed and saddened, Jihoon had realized the night he’d caught Dr. Jung that it would be better to let it go and not tell. The dichotomy of emotional responses and appropriate actions programmed into Jihoon’s center chip is advanced enough that it evolves with every situation. Either he’s learning—or he’s simply more in tune with Changsun’s emotional responses. It isn’t a bad thing that he reacts the way Changsun does.  
  
Dr. Lee Changsun tells Jihoon many, many secrets. Some more harmful now because more people know. Jihoon knows, almost inherently, that confidentiality is inversely proportional to how interesting the secret is. The more interesting the secret, the more people who know.   
  
Three months into his creation, Jihoon is trying very hard to grasp the concept of trust. It’s a very grey thing he realizes. Trust between friends is different from trust between family, between lovers, between strangers, between man and robot. Jihoon thinks Changsun trusts him more than he trusts anyone else, perhaps even more than he trusts Cheolyong. Changsun tells Jihoon things about himself that Jihoon cannot believe he’s told others. Things like insecurity; things like fear. But to put faith in a more profound thread of trust between them is something Jihoon recognizes to be arrogance. Something  _close_  to arrogance.  
  
He has yet to figure out just how bad arrogance is.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
Changsun tells him he’s developing quickly. It makes Jihoon feel so proud. Holy scriptures tell him Pride is a sin but arrogance probably is too. Cheolyong is  _so_  very arrogant and prideful. Jihoon can be so as well.  
  
His speech is still stilted. He tries to infuse more colloquialism and more contractions in his speech but it’s hard and sometimes he makes a mistake. Changsun simply smiles at him.  
  
“You’re getting better Jihoon-ah. Your speech is so precious,” he says. “If only  _some_  people could be as polite as you,” and from the emphasis Jihoon knows Changsun is talking about Cheolyong.  
  
“I’m sorry Changsun. I’m attempting to better myself but the process is slow.”  
  
“It’s okay. We’ll work on having more casual conversations from now on. Lord knows I’ve been neglecting you lately.”  
  
Jihoon shakes his head, trying to disagree. His appropriate emotional responses come more quickly now. “You’re busy. I understand.” He watches Changsun glance behind him to the door. Even though it’s closed, somehow Jihoon feels like he knows exactly where Changsun is looking to—or  _who_. “You’re so patient with me. Did I overdo the patience mechanism?”  
  
Jihoon knows now this is a joke. His lips curve up in a grin. “I’ll always be patient with you Changsun. You’re my friend.”  
  
“You’re my friend too.”  
  
There’s a knock on the door. Jihoon looks at the clock on the wall and frowns. He still has forty minutes with Changsun before their session is supposed to end. He wants to tell Changsun not to let inside whoever had knocked, but he knows he has no right to do so and instead stays quiet. Unsurprisingly, Changsun stands from his seat on Jihoon’s bed and goes to open the door.  
  
“Mir? What’s wrong?” Even though Jihoon knows Changsun is trying to appear calm and unconcerned, he can  _hear_  the note of worry in his voice.  
  
“Sorry Doc. I just wanted to know if you were too busy to get some lunch now.”  
  
“I’m with Jihoon at the moment. Lunch’ll have to wait,” he answers. Jihoon can’t see Cheolyong’s face but he can picture it.   
  
“I can wait for you,” Cheolyong says stubbornly. Jihoon wants to stand and go up to Cheolyong and tell him something harsh and mean, something like  _You can wait forever then_  but he doesn’t. That he even thinks of doing something like that shows how far he’s progressed in human emotional responses.  
  
“Can you wait a half hour?”  _It’ll be more than a half hour_ , Jihoon thinks to himself.  
  
“Of course. I’ll be in your office.”  
  
The whole time, Jihoon had been staring at Changsun’s back, but at that moment is when Jihoon tears his eyes away, all but glaring at the floor when Changsun leans forward through the doorway. He can’t see it clearly, but he hears the small sound of happiness Cheoyong makes and knows they’ve just kissed. And not the way Changsun has sometimes kissed Jihoon on the cheek just before he’s shut down. They kiss the way Dr. Jung kissed the technician in the supply room. It isn’t the first time they’ve kissed like this.  
  
“See you soon,” Cheolyong says, delight in his voice. A dark feeling curls in Jihoon’s belly. He ignores it and tells himself his lower mechanisms aren’t functioning as normal.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
The first time Jihoon ever met Cheolyong is an event he’ll never forget—not that he could anyway, unless Changsun decides to erase parts of his memory bank. It was a moment of many firsts; the first time he’d recognized envy; the first time Changsun had allowed him out of his room.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you out sooner,” Changsun says to him, looking contrite.  
  
“It is alright,” Jihoon says, pausing a moment before amending, “It’s okay.” The smile on Changsun’s face had been worth the momentary slip.  
  
“I trust you now Ji. That’s why I’m letting you out. I mean—I’ve  _always_  trusted you of course, you believe me right? It’s just that the other doctors. Well…”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“And you know that I would have had you out much sooner if I’d had it my way, right? You’re special Jihoon. Everyone else will see that too.”  
  
“I’m special?”   
  
Changsun, who’s walking beside Jihoon as they make their way down the empty corridor, nods but continues to look straight ahead. His shoes click with every step he takes on the cold linoleum. “You’re extremely special.”  
  
“I’m special to you?”  
  
There’s a moment of hesitation before Changsun truthfully answers, “Extremely.”  
  
“Are there others who are special to you?”  
  
Even from the corner of his eye Jihoon can see the look of surprise on Changsun’s face at the question. “There are a lot of people that are special to me. They’re special in different ways. That’s what makes them special, you know what I mean?”  
  
“It’s the disparity of what we all can offer you that distinguishes us and thus makes one of us more special than another, right Changsun?”  
  
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”  
  
“I’m sorry. I thought it was our individuality that makes us different.”  
  
“It is. But it isn’t just what makes you different that makes people special. It’s what those differences amount to. Kids are way different from you Jihoon, but that doesn’t make them more special than you are to me.”  
  
“I think I understand.”  
  
Changsun takes Jihoon’s hand. Jihoon is taller than Changsun; his build thicker; hands larger; grip firmer. If Changsun feels intimidated by the difference between the two of them he never shows it. In fact sometimes he treats Jihoon like he’s a child. In many regards he supposes he still is one, even if he does assume the form of someone far more mature.  
  
“You wanna meet someone else really special to me?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Changsun is already leading him in the apparent direction of his special someone. Jihoon widens his stride to match Changsun’s hurried steps. The doctor is smiling excitedly, hair flouncing slightly as he walks.  
  
“Someone I think you’ll like a lot. He’s extremely special to me.”  _You’re extremely special_. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the feeling washing over him, thus he chooses to ignore it until later, when he can evaluate what the emotion is. Then he can formulate an appropriate response for the next time he feels this way.  
  
“He lives here too, but his room is a lot different from yours.”  
  
His name is Cheolyong—the boy living in the room behind the door Changsun opens. Cheolyong looks…young. Young and behaves vivaciously and smiles like the sun has melted inside him. His teeth sparkle when he laughs; his nose crinkles when he smiles; his eyes narrow when he frowns just before his face transforms into a look of contempt.  
  
Contempt directed at Jihoon.   
  
“Who’s he Joonie?” he asks petulantly. Cheolyong wraps his arms around Changsun’s waist. Jihoon attempts to mask his surprise.  
  
“He’s a friend of mine. Cheolyong, this is Jihoon. Jihoon, this is Cheolyong. He’s a little childish sometimes.”  
  
“So are  _you_ ,” Cheolyong argues.   
  
“Cheolyong is…growing.”  
  
“I’m maturing!”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Ji, do you wanna spend some time with Cheolyong?”   
  
 _No, I don’t want to_. “If you need to be somewhere I don’t mind spending time with your special friend.” Cheolyong seems to blush at Jihoon’s words but that’s silly to consider because Cheolyong wouldn’t blush at something that’s the truth.  
  
Right?  
  
“A half hour then. I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Changsun tells them both with a wink, and then he’s gone before Jihoon can tell him that there are more things Changsun would do than Jihoon or Cheolyong  _could_  do. He clamps down and remains silent, staring impassively at Cheolyong who gives him a wary look.  
  
“Well.” Cheolyong sounds irritated. Jihoon can relate.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
Happiness is a funny thing. Well, perhaps not humorous, but it’s intriguing to Jihoon. Many things make him happy. When people compliment him and tell him how good looking he is, how impressed they are with his muscles—he’s happy then. When Changsun stays an extra 15 minutes with him after their time together is over. When Changsun smiles at him. When Changsun laughs at something Jihoon says. When Changsun is Changsun Jihoon is happy.  
  
But another important thing Jihoon learns over the course of several weeks is that happiness, like everything else in life, is different for everyone. It’s another quale of life Jihoon is trying very hard to grasp.  
  
Cheolyong is not happy when Jihoon is happy. He isn’t happy when people praise Jihoon, or when Changsun stays in his room an extra 15 minutes, or when Changsun smiles at him, or when Changsun laughs at something Jihoon said. What’s confusing is that that doesn’t mean he isn’t happy when Changsun is Changsun because he is—  
  
But only when he is Changsun for Cheolyong.  
  
The two forms of happiness overlap and in doing so they threaten each other. Jihoon doesn’t like feeling petty but he doesn’t like it when Changsun is with Cheolyong and Cheolyong certainly doesn’t like it when Changsun is with Jihoon. The two of them try to separate Changsun from the other with little success.  
  
Changsun has never kissed Jihoon. Not like how Dr. Jung kissed the technician that one time—perhaps many times, though Jihoon wasn’t there to see them. It…hurts…when he sees Changsun kiss Cheolyong. Hurts doubly so because he knows he isn’t supposed to.  
  
The first time he sees them together intimately it’s because he’s going to visit Changsun in his office—a place Changsun showed him a few days ago after he’d collected Jihoon from Cheolyong’s room. Changsun had told him afterward, when he’d been taking Jihoon back to his room, that he’s welcome to come to Changsun’s office anytime if he needs to see Changsun.  
  
Jihoon takes the sentiment to heart, which is why a few days later he decides to visit Changsun in his office. He can just as easily call him, sure, but he wants to see the doctor in person and doesn’t want to inconvenience him by forcing  _him_  to come to see Jihoon.   
  
The door is left ajar but only a crack of space allows Jihoon to see inside. It’s not that he’s trying to spy on Changsun, but after one knock on the door his hand pushes it open far enough that he can see inside better and what he sees shocks him. Shock isn’t a new emotion. But he doesn’t like it.  
  
He’d had no reason to ever suspect what  _kind_  of special friend Cheolyong is to Changsun. But now he knows.  
  
All he sees at first is the long, sleek curve of a bare muscled back. Arching and curling, uncurling. Then his eyes roam down the back and see the swell of a butt and hips with a pair of legs wrapped around. Thick, exposed thighs; pants around the knees. And then Jihoon takes note of the sound of low gasps and barely stifled moans. Now he understands what he sees.  
  
In another world, for another person, this would be considered absolutely arousing. Beautiful, hot. It’s Changsun engaged in coitus— _Say it right Jihoon; he’s having sex…he’s_  fucking  _someone_ —and Jihoon is far from stupid. He  _knows_  it’s Cheolyong. No one else in this unit would gasp  _Joonie_  out like that.  
  
It isn’t arousing for Jihoon. He isn’t sure how he feels but a cold, sick feeling has settled in his stomach. He can’t tear his eyes away; he can’t face this either. Not when Changsun bends his head down buries it in Cheolyong’s neck. He’s kissing it, marking it up. It must feel amazing, what with the way Cheolyong throws his head to the side and moans long and deep, fingers leaving red welts down Changsun’s back. Jihoon distantly wonders how comfortable it must be being bent over a desk, the hard wood digging into your back as your pressed against it roughly.  
  
In a detached manner, Jihoon slowly closes the door, entirely silent and leaving no trace he was ever there, watching, before he turns to leave.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
“Do you think I’m good looking?”  
  
Changsun looks surprised by the question. He stands up from his place on Jihoon’s bed and goes to stand beside Jihoon in front of the full length mirror. Jihoon slowly removes his shirt and stares at himself in the mirror. Not in a prideful way; his eyes are nothing more than assessing his form.  
  
“ _Extremely_  good looking. Hasn’t the staff all told you yet how hot they think you are?”  
  
Jihoon nods. “Am I good looking enough?” he asks after a moment. He turns to the side and runs his left hand down his right arm, watching the muscles all flex and bend.  
  
“Good looking enough for what?”  
  
He hesitates to answer. “…You.”  
  
“ _Me?_  What do you mean by that?”  
  
Jihoon turns to the front again and remains silent for a moment. He turns his head slightly and catches Changsun’s eye in the mirror. They stare at each other for a full minute straight, neither saying anything, before Jihoon turns and fully faces Changsun beside him.   
  
Without a word he takes Changsun’s hand and leads it to his naked chest, his palm completely covering his right nipple. Changsun looks surprised but doesn’t try to pull away.  
  
“If I wanted a more intimate relationship with you, would you want that too?”  
  
“You mean…are you asking if I want to have sex with you?” he asks incredulously.  
  
Jihoon nods. “I…I think you’re extremely good looking too. And not just physically. You have such a…charismatic personality. I want to explore—”  
  
“Jihoon,” Changsun interrupts. He finally gently pulls his hand away and takes a step back, giving Jihoon an apologetic smile. “I’m really,  _really_  uh… _flattered_ …you like me so much, but to have sex? That…that wouldn’t be a good idea.”  
  
“Why not?” He tries not to sound hurt but it’s hard not to.  
  
“Because having sex with artificial intelligence isn’t just medically unethical, it’s also illegal.”  
  
It’s a blow that all but knocks the wind out of Jihoon. For the first time in all the time they’ve been together, Changsun acknowledges the inescapable fact that no matter how human Jihoon may look, feel, act, speak—he  _isn’t_  human. In all this time it’s never been an issue—it’s never even been talked about, just known and quietly ignored because it’s  _never mattered_ and it hurts to know that now it does. Now—when Jihoon is feeling more  _human_  than he’s ever felt, is when his uniqueness is brought up.  
  
“I…Changsun I don’t…” He stops because what else is there to say? So much he wants to say, so much he  _could_  say, perhaps, to convince Changsun that what Jihoon feels for him isn’t  _medically unethical_  even if it’s illegal but none of the right words come to mind. Nothing comes to mind. And then for the first time since his creation, Jihoon doesn’t stop to consider every consequence of his actions. He snaps.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
By the time Cheolyong comes into the room—and he’s there only because he’d been looking for Changsun,  _not_  to see Jihoon—it’s only been a few minutes but in that time Jihoon had managed to knock Changsun against the wall, held there by impossibly strong arms as Jihoon plunders his mouth, mouth crashing open and wide and needy against Changsun’s.  
  
Jihoon is much stronger than Changsun. Strong enough that when Changsun reaches up and tries to shove him away Jihoon is easily able to grab his arms and pin them to his side against the wall.  
  
He kisses Changsun exactly the way Dr. Jung kissed that technician; just as passionately and lovingly as Changsun had kissed Cheolyong. It doesn’t matter that Changsun struggles against him. Jihoon doesn’t even notice it.  
  
All he sees is himself and Changsun just the way Changsun had been with Cheolyong. They’d be on the bed, Jihoon on top with Changsun splayed out deliciously beneath him, arching up against him, face pleasure shocked and desperate for release. Oh how he wants it.  
  
But Cheolyong comes into the room before anything more can happen. Jihoon doesn’t even hear him come in. One moment he’s kissing Changsun and the next thing he knows he’s being yanked away from him, only the element of surprise allowing Cheolyong to overcome Jihoon’s strength.  
  
“What the  _fuck_  Changsun?!” Cheolyong all but screams, startling Jihoon enough that he doesn’t try to do anything but just stand there, not moving, not speaking. They all stare at each other, Changsun looking away first as he doubles over with his hands on his knees, chest heaving from the force of his labored breathing.  
  
“I…” It’s all Jihoon is able to say before Cheolyong is all but in his face. Jihoon sees the smaller man’s fist flying towards him but he doesn’t move to dodge it and it collides with the side of his face. His head snaps to the side with an audible crack and pain explodes in his entire head. And he still says nothing.  
  
“We’ll—we’ll talk about this l-later,” Changsun says softly. He grabs Cheolyong’s arm and pulls him away from Jihoon, leads him to the door. Before they leave, Changsun turns around. The look on his face is a look Jihoon doesn’t understand. It’s a mixture of emotions, a conglomeration of shock, disbelief, hurt, guilt…fear? anger? disappointment?  
  
“Don’t leave your room tonight Jihoon. Someone will be in tomorrow to talk to you.” It’s all he says before he’s gone.  
  


○ • ♦ • ○

  
  
They have him strapped down. They’ve already removed his motor and vocal controls, so he couldn’t move or speak even if there had been anything to say. Slowly, piece by piece they begin to disassemble him.  
  
Changsun walks into the lab room in the midst of the technician detaching a prosthetic arm.  
  
“Be careful with him,” he says, a useless statement because Jihoon’s parts are worth almost as much as a small country. Of course the lab is going to be careful with him.  
  
“It’s a shame to deactivate this one,” the technician notes as he begins to unscrew Jihoon’s fingers. “Number 181914—man was he impressive. It’ll be a shame to see Rain go.”  
  
“His name is Jihoon,” Changsun says firmly. The technician shrugs. “Well, I’ll be right back, need to get some polishing oil. Watch him, will ’ya? I don’t trust the new interns—more than one of them is itching to get their hands on these parts.”  
  
“Sure,” Changsun says, nodding. He steps closer to the broken person strapped to the table. No matter what, Jihoon will always be a person to Changsun. Nothing changes that.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re getting emotional over one of your pets,” he hears behind him. Changsun spins around, seeing Cheolyong come in and closing the door behind him. Silently he turns again to face Jihoon on the table.  
  
“Come on Joonie. We should get outta here.”  
  
“I need to watch him until the technician gets back,” Changsun states quietly. Cheolyong sighs and comes up behind him, sliding his arms around his middle and resting the side of his face against Changsun’s back.  
  
“He thought he loved me,” Changsun says after a long pause.   
  
“He tried to rape you,” Cheolyong angrily retorts.  
  
“He wouldn’t have.”  
  
“Yes he  _would_. Maybe you were too stupid to see it but that robot was definitely way more invested in you than he should have been.”  
  
“You only say that because you’re jealous.”  
  
“Of what, some piece of metal who couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Cheolyong’s arms tighten around Changsun’s waist. Changsun covers the smaller man’s hands with his own, trying to placate him silently.  
  
“He was really something else, Mir…The speed at which he matured and acquired knowledge was just…wow,” Changsun says, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.  
  
“All your pets mature and gain knowledge. There wasn’t anything special about  _him_.”  
  
“No, you’re right, I know he was built like all the others but…but when I  _designed_  him…” he trails off. “When I designed him it was—it was after myself. How I wish I could be, or maybe how I would be in a different situation. I mean, yeah, he thought he loved me romantically but I loved him too. I love him.”  
  
As though burned Cheolyong yanks away, taking several steps back. Changsun spins around to face him, alarmed. “What?”  
  
“You love  _him_?” Changsun nods, hesitantly. “And me?”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“ _Changsun_!” Cheolyong whines.  
  
“Don’t start calling me by my real name now, Mir. And stop getting so jealous. The way I love Jihoon is different from how we love each other, alright? It’s more like just loving myself—a different, way more separate part of me.”  
  
“And you told him that, right? That’s why he attacked you?” Cheolyong asks as he once again comes up to Changsun. This time he slides his arms around Changsun’s neck, tugging him down as Changsun rests his hands at Cheolyong’s waist.  
  
“Not exactly,” Changsun admits. “He said he wanted to have sex and I told him having sex between artificial intelligence is illegal. That’s when he snapped.”  
  
He can see Cheolyong wants to berate him, but he doesn’t give the other boy the chance. Changsun leans in and seals Cheolyong’s mouth in a deep, languid kiss, moving lips against lips for long minutes, knowing they don’t have long until the technician will be back. His own words keep repeating in his mind— _medically unethical…illegal_. As he deepens the kiss, his hand reaches up to tangle in Cheolyong’s thick hair.  
  
His fingers slide over the small power jack at the nape of Cheolyong’s neck.  _Hypocrite_ , he can’t help but think.


End file.
